


Of Human Rind

by SleepsWithCoyotes



Category: Loveless
Genre: Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 13:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6117535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepsWithCoyotes/pseuds/SleepsWithCoyotes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One way it could go in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Human Rind

**Author's Note:**

> For mitsuhachi, who asked for _Seimei/Ritsuka/Soubi, gestures of affection._ It's probably nothing like what you had in mind with this prompt, but I just couldn't get past the whole "how'd they end up together?" bit without, well, this. Story contains no actual incest, but does not preclude the possibility in the future (it's basically the _setup_ to a get-together fic).

"Seimei," Ritsuka grated, his voice a pained rasp that broke on the name. "Seimei, please."

Ritsuka's own knees had buckled long ago, only the immovable strength of Soubi at his back and Soubi's arm wrapped around his chest--the pale hand looped and fisted in the restraints wound around them both--keeping him on his feet. Now even Soubi seemed tired, but Seimei wavered only a little, standing stiff and proud though his eyes had gone wide, wild but empty.

"Nisei," Seimei murmured, nudging his Fighter in the ribs with the toe of his boot. "Don't be useless. Get up."

Ritsuka swallowed as best he could, but it hurt. Because he'd been screaming, of course; he wasn't about to cry over a bastard like Nisei, who didn't move, even when Seimei nudged him harder. Ritsuka was pretty sure Nisei wasn't ever going to move again, not with how much of his blood Seimei was wearing, and...he guessed he should have known Nagisa wouldn't play by the rules, would find a way to storm her way even into the middle of a spell battle, but he hadn't expected her to bring a gun. He hadn't expected her to miss, either...or not 'miss' exactly, because Nisei had....

Why had Nisei moved between Seimei and those bullets? Seimei had acted like he despised the man, and Nisei...he just didn't seem that loyal. It didn't make sense. None of this made sense. He just wanted this to be _over._

"Seimei," Soubi said quietly, the hum of his voice a comforting buzz against Ritsuka's spine. "It's over. Let it go."

Seimei looked up slowly from Nisei's body, his pupils hollow and huge. There was no recognition in his face at all. "Over?"

"Seimei." Ritsuka didn't know what to say. _You've won?_ He still didn't entirely understand what Seimei had been after in the first place. _You're free_ seemed safer. Ritsu-sensei was dead, Nagisa blank-eyed and mindless from whatever Soubi had done to her to keep her from firing again, Seven's computers long since smashed to pieces. There really was no one left to fight, no one who could cause them--any of them--any harm. "Brother...?"

"Ritsuka...?" Seimei asked, still not seeing him but listening...maybe.

"Come with us," Ritsuka said, holding out the hand that wasn't clamped around Soubi's arm, feeling the restraints Nisei had bound them with dissolve at last. "Please. Don't disappear again."

He didn't think Seimei would answer him, but his brother shifted restlessly, hesitated, and took a slow, uncertain step towards them.

Soubi was too tired to cross the field to catch Seimei before he fell, too busy holding Ritsuka up already, but he wasn't too tired to help Ritsuka cross to his brother's side or to carry Seimei away, Ritsuka's eyes darting back and forth between them with his heart in his throat.

***

Even after they got him back to Soubi's apartment and into Soubi's bed, Seimei slept for days. Though it worried Ritsuka to distraction, Soubi was secretly more relieved than concerned by this state of affairs. Asleep, Seimei could only command the sort of care anyone with a scrap of compassion would give. Awake, he might remember that Nisei hadn't been his only Fighter, that he might, just perhaps, have something to live for after all.

"Seimei," he heard Ritsuka murmur in his still-cracked voice, but he was careful not to let his stride falter as he approached the bedroom. The basin of warm water he carried was filled nearly to the brim, and he didn't want to look ungraceful in front of his....

 _Master,_ certainly, but which was which? He'd chosen Ritsuka, had been willing to die for the boy, but...he couldn't know, in the end, whether he'd made that choice because Seimei had already made it for him, because the person whose name he wore had a Fighter of his own and didn't need him anymore. Second-best was easy to give away. Easy to take back, perhaps, as well, if Seimei decided he'd only meant it to be a loan.

Ritsuka didn't look up when he entered the room, sitting at the edge of Soubi's bed with Seimei's hand clasped in both of his own. He looked worn, thinner than ever, the dark circles under his eyes and the worried tension of his face giving him a pinched look that never went away, even in sleep. It'd taken Yuiko and Yayoi together to convince Ritsuka to make a token appearance at school that morning, but nothing would convince him to go back home and leave Seimei here. Soubi hadn't even tried.

"Ritsuka?" Soubi asked, putting the basin down on the nightstand without spilling a drop.

"Hm?"

"I think your brother would appreciate a bath," he said as gently as he could. As disturbing as it was to see Seimei so unguarded, it was awful to see him this unkempt when he'd always been so adamantly clean. Ritsuka combed Seimei's hair every day, but the blue-black strands had gone lank and lifeless, still smelled faintly of blood. Soubi had cleaned that up himself, every drop, but the rest he'd left to Ritsuka.

"Yeah," Ritsuka said quietly, tipping his face up without letting go of his brother's hand. "Would you...do you think you could...?"

"I don't think he'd like being touched by anyone but you," Soubi said carefully, "but I'll help with anything you ask."

Two years of fighting and looking over his shoulder had given Ritsuka a steady gaze, a stare that couldn't be broken when he cared to use it. He was holding Soubi's eyes now, solemn and unblinking. "Will you?"

"Yes," Soubi replied though his chest felt half-crushed, the scar around his neck aching sharply in warning. "Anything you ask. Everything you order."

Ritsuka nodded once, ears cocked back as if he didn't quite believe that promise even now, though his face lost some of its wariness as he turned back to his brother. "All right. Help me get him out of these pajamas. He's too heavy for me, and if he complains after all this, I'll hit him."

He hadn't been used to smiling before he was given to Ritsuka, but the tugging at the corners of his mouth had grown familiar. "As you wish...Master."

"Hmph," Ritsuka said, already dunking the washcloth Soubi had bought into the basin and wringing it out as if wrapping his hands around an imaginary neck. His ears had unfolded, though, just a bit, and Soubi could tell by the furtive jerking of the very tip of Ritsuka's tail that his Sacrifice was pleased.

***

Standing in the dark kitchen, a half-empty water glass in his hand, Ritsuka stared out the window over the sink at the empty lot behind Soubi's apartment, the faded streetlights beyond. He didn't quite jump when a pair of warm arms wrapped around him from behind, though he nearly dropped the glass until he tightened his grip. Much as he would have liked to pretend it was Seimei, Soubi's warmth was just as soothing, just as familiar, soaking into his back as a sharp chin settled on top of his head.

"Nightmare?" Soubi asked, mouth brushing against the base of Ritsuka's twitching right ear, smoky voice deep and soft.

Ritsuka shrugged. Nightmares he could have handled. What he hated most was not being able to sleep at all. Which, he supposed, was nothing to complain about...all things considered.

"He isn't waking up," he said, not caring that Soubi _knew_ that, that it was painfully obvious to them both. "He--he didn't even like Nisei." He couldn't understand why losing that snake had hit his brother this hard, but he'd never understood the power everyone gave their names to begin with.

"It's not that simple," Soubi said with a sigh, arm pulling tighter. "They were connected. It's different when it's...when it's a real bond. When one half of a pair dies--"

"You didn't," Ritsuka said stubbornly, leaning back into Soubi to feel him solid and warm and alive.

"Mine wasn't really dead. And he wasn't really mine."

Ritsuka growled wordlessly, but when Soubi's arms went careful around him, he grabbed the man's wrists with both hands and tugged them tight again. It wasn't quite so embarrassing lately to have Soubi wrapped around him like that, though it was starting to get embarrassing in other ways. Just the thought of what Seimei would say if he saw them like this was enough to make him blush to the tips of his ears, but part of him _wanted_ Seimei to see, to show him that...that Soubi was _happy_ with him, and...he didn't know what he wanted to come of that, exactly, but it wouldn't matter either way until Seimei opened his eyes.

"He's going to get better," Ritsuka said, fiercely determined. "He's going to wake up, and everything's going to be fine."

"If you say it," Soubi murmured into his hair, "it will be so."

Which was funny, because there were things he wanted to say, wanted to ask for, and couldn't. Not yet. Not until he was absolutely certain he had the right. Because he didn't want to lose his brother, but he didn't want to lose Soubi either, and it had to be one or the other, didn't it?

It was stupid to wait, and he knew it, but he didn't want to make those decisions while no one could stop him, _because_ no one could stop him, grasping desperately after what he wanted like a kid.

"Are you going back to school again tomorrow?"

"Erm." Lovely. Now he even felt his age. Tomorrow was Tuesday, though, and if he skipped any more classes, they'd end up calling his house. The weird thing was, he'd bet his mother would alibi him with a smile, because _her_ Ritsuka probably cut class to go play with his friends all the time.

"He'll be safe here."

"I know."

"But you're welcome to stay. I could call in for you. I probably sound old enough to be your father."

"I'll think about it," he said, _not_ squirming with embarrassment, but only just. Soubi wasn't that old, not really. They had eight years between them, sure, but in a few more years, it wouldn't even be noticeable. It wasn't like Soubi was going to run off to become a salaryman, start hiding behind a suit and tie that would make him look ten years older than he really was. Never going to happen. And Ritsuka would grow up, and Soubi would still be Soubi, and at some point they'd sort of match, or at least not fit together too badly. It was just one more thing to wait for, and it wasn't half as nerve-wracking as waiting for his brother to wake.

Seimei was still sleeping when Ritsuka crawled back into bed with him at last, not moving even when Ritsuka snuggled up to his side and pillowed his head on Seimei's shoulder. "You're safe, you know," he said into his brother's chest, both of them wrapped in Soubi's pajamas since neither he nor Soubi really wanted to visit Ritsuka's house right now. "I'm here. So's Soubi. It's okay to wake up, I promise."

Nothing. Not a twitch. And despite his best intentions of staying up and keeping watch, Ritsuka found his own eyes drooping as the steady cadence of Seimei's breath lulled him into sleep.

***

Waking for the first time alone--completely alone--was nothing like what Seimei expected. Nisei would never have been his first choice of companions, but the Fighter had been _his._ They'd shared a name, which he supposed made Nisei a part of him, whether he liked it or not. Which was the problem, really. Now that Nisei was utterly gone, Seimei felt the lack like a missing limb.

A miscalculation. One that didn't make sense. He should have been immune; he still had Soubi, didn't he?

Lying on clean white sheets, surrounded by the scent of his discarded Fighter, Seimei stared blindly up at the ceiling and wondered why his skin wasn't crawling. Even after years of hotel beds, he'd never gotten used to it: the filthy residue of countless others seeping into his skin, no matter how hard he tried to scrub it away. Soubi hadn't been any better, dirty inside and out, even after Seimei had carved his name into his servant's skin...only now Seimei couldn't seem to work up the disgust to get out of this bed and back on his feet. Maybe he'd been too long asleep, until Soubi's scent had worked its way into his dreams and made itself at home.

He was still trying to decide how he felt about that when the bedroom door came open, Ritsuka sneaking noiselessly inside and freezing like a startled rabbit when their eyes met.

"Rit--" he began and coughed, frowning. His throat was so dry. How long had he been--?

"Seimei!" Ritsuka cried, and all at once he had an armful of awkward elbows and knees, silky black ears flattening so Ritsuka could push his head under Seimei's chin and hold on tight. "You're back," Ritsuka chanted fiercely into his neck, "you're finally back."

"Yes." It wasn't as if he had anywhere else to go.

It should have been a relief to have Ritsuka back in his arms, where his brother belonged, and it _was_...but it wasn't quite the way he remembered. The thick, dark hair he nuzzled contentedly into had lost its baby fineness, was still soft but was no longer kitten-sweet. Ritsuka still smelled like Ritsuka, but also of teenaged boy: clean sweat and sun and some indefinable musk, and a little of Soubi's cigarettes. Maybe of Soubi himself. He could imagine it all too well, Ritsuka tired and worried and folded into long arms, pulled close and tucked under a sharp chin, just like now.

He wasn't surprised to drag his eyes up at last and find Soubi standing in the doorway, too well-trained even now to enter his own bedroom without permission while Seimei occupied it. Only that had changed too: the washed-out blue eyes that had always been lowered in his presence gazed at him directly now, silent but watchful, alert for any sign of danger.

 _I would never hurt Ritsuka,_ Seimei wanted to protest, _not now, not when he's mine again._ His, just his, and only his. He even opened his mouth to say it, but Soubi's eyes warned him not to, and he...found he didn't want to argue, just in case he was wrong.

"How are you feeling?" Soubi asked cautiously, and Seimei tightened his arm unthinkingly when Ritsuka shifted as if to sit up.

"Fine," he said. "I feel fine."

But his throat felt like sandpaper, his body hollowed-out and weak, and even though the room was far from empty, he felt more alone than he had in his life.

***

Ritsuka understandably didn't want to leave his brother's side, and Soubi did nothing to protest it, though Seimei's silence...worried him. Seimei was mostly occupied with Ritsuka, but every once in a while Soubi would feel the weight of eyes upon him, measuring and questioning. Waiting. It was the waiting that alarmed him most, and though no orders passed Seimei's lips, the safest course would be to make sure none ever did.

"Thanks, Soubi," Ritsuka said when he brought the boy juice, Seimei an unopened bottle of water. They'd been talking for hours; surely they had to be thirsty. In a minute he would start dinner: Ritsuka's favorites, and Seimei's if they hadn't changed. Later, he would run their bath.

He would have to be perfect, utterly perfect. It was just that he knew too well how little perfection mattered if Seimei chose to be unsatisfied.

"Yes," he murmured, casting his eyes down and preparing to back away. The brothers were still on his bed, in his bed, and maybe later the irony of that would be something he could laugh at. Though they were both sitting up against the headboard, Ritsuka had settled on top of the covers, and Soubi noticed absently that the boy's socks didn't quite match, one navy and one black.

It was the navy foot that prodded him in the thigh until he looked up and met Ritsuka's narrow stare. "Where's yours?" Ritsuka asked, leaving his foot where it was. Touching him, comfortable with it, even as he leaned back against Seimei's shoulder.

"I...thought I'd start dinner."

Seimei's eyes were dark, watching him over Ritsuka's ears, but in the brief glance Soubi stole, they didn't look angry, exactly, only intent.

"Hmph. You're being too polite again."

"Yes, Ritsuka." The corner of his mouth twitched, and he was powerless to stop it.

"Soubi." Seimei's voice was noncommittal, but Soubi stiffened despite himself, eyes dropping to the floor. "You could join us."

"It's--"

 _"Sou-bi,"_ Ritsuka said, drawing his name out and prodding him again until he glanced cautiously up once more.

This time he couldn't contain the smile at all, and he wrapped one hand lightly around Ritsuka's ankle, not to push him off or--quite--to hold him there. "Dinner won't cook itself."

"And here I thought you knew a spell for everything."

"No." He didn't look at Seimei, chose to hold Ritsuka's eyes instead. "Not everything."

But Seimei didn't order him to stop touching his brother, so maybe his own wishes did still have some weight.

***

Soubi's bathroom was smaller than the one they'd had at home, but Seimei had no interest in going back there. His Ritsuka had too many scars as it was, more than should have been possible in the few years he'd been gone. Hadn't he told Ritsuka to stay away from that woman, to run when she got strange?

"Nn," Ritsuka hummed, leaned forward with his arms wrapped around his knees, eyes closed as Seimei washed his back. He didn't even flinch when Seimei ran halting fingertips over haphazard lines in pink and white, most of them healed, some of them not. Soubi should have prevented this. There were so many ways he could have done it: fire, lightning, an untraceable accident. He knew their mother's _name_ \--he could have bound that woman's will and forced her to do the job herself. If Ritsuka had been hurt, it was--

Not Soubi's fault alone.

Leaning forward himself, Seimei wrapped his arms around Ritsuka and rested his chin on the top of his brother's head, pretending not to notice the reflexive way Ritsuka tensed before relaxing all at once.

"Seimei?" He didn't sound worried, only confused.

"Let's not go back to mother's," he said, tightening his arms when Ritsuka froze. "It's not good for you to--"

"Not you too," Ritsuka muttered, hunching a little in Seimei's grasp. "Did Soubi put you up to--no, I guess that's stupid. Look, she's just...lonely. And confused. She doesn't really mean to--"

"She hurts you. Parents shouldn't do that."

Ritsuka was silent for a long moment, stiff as a board. "Can we not talk about this?" he said at last, low and unwilling. "And don't bring it up in front of Soubi, either. I don't want to have to talk him out of 'fixing' her again." Though Ritsuka's tone was aggrieved, when Seimei lifted his head, he caught Ritsuka staring at nothing with a faint, uncertain smile.

"He's supposed to protect you."

Ritsuka glanced back at him, nonplused. "He does."

Though there was nothing but skin between them, Ritsuka wrapped warm and trusting in his arms, there was still some part of his brother that was absent, aloof, a part that no longer belonged to Seimei at all. It wasn't supposed to have gone this way. Ritsuka was supposed to be his and his alone. Ritsuka wasn't supposed to...Ritsuka wasn't supposed to _love._ Not anyone but him. But-- "You like him."

Craning his head further until he could meet his brother's eyes, Ritsuka leaned back against Seimei's shoulder and asked, "Don't you?"

***

It wasn't that Seimei had changed, exactly; Ritsuka could still see traces of that other side of him now and then, the parts of his brother he'd never known. The things that made Soubi say, "Kio must never know" with a solemn half-smile when the subject of them staying over a little longer came up. Soubi always said it like a joke, only it wasn't, not really. He wasn't blind or stupid; he knew his brother wasn't always nice, wasn't the kind, perfect being Ritsuka had believed him to be when he was younger. It was just that Seimei was his brother, and...that was it, really. That was good enough for him.

"Ritsuka," Seimei murmured, sitting on the edge of Soubi's bed looking perfect, not wrinkled and rumpled the way Ritsuka himself did. They'd changed and washed all the bedding a few times now, but Ritsuka still imagined that they both smelled just a little bit like Soubi, who still hadn't asked for his bed back. Ritsuka felt bad about that, if not about the other thing. Not that he'd admit it to either one of them, but he sort of liked catching their scents on him throughout the day, his brother clean and sharp, Soubi more complex: cigarettes and paint and a faint hint of musk, something exciting and comforting at once.

"Yes?"

"Help me to the other room?"

"Sure," he said, not bothering to hide a smile. He didn't think Seimei really needed help, but if his brother wanted someone to lean on, that was fine by him.

He'd grown taller since Seimei had been away, maybe not a lot, but enough that the arm around his shoulder was comfortable for them both. It seemed like Seimei had gotten thinner over the last few years, or maybe it was just the fever that had eaten him up while he was sleeping. He still moved purposefully, confident to the point of arrogance, but he tired quickly. When he sank down onto Soubi's couch, he sagged back into the cushions instead of sitting bolt upright, frowning at his own weakness.

"Seimei?" Ritsuka asked, torn between settling down beside him and going to find Soubi, to beg at last for the man to _fix_ him. Ritsuka knew there were spells for healing, not just for hurting, but Soubi hadn't offered and Seimei hadn't ordered, and he didn't know why or what they were waiting for. The tension between them was thick enough to cut with a knife when they were in the same room together, and sometimes Ritsuka wanted to push them apart and tell them to _stop it,_ whatever the hell they were doing, because it was driving him insane.

The only thing that stopped him was the niggling worry in the back of his head that Seimei would just smile at him and offer to take his Fighter and _go._

"I'm fine," Seimei said, the words automatic now after so many repetitions.

Ritsuka shook his head. "No, you're not. Can't--"

"Ritsuka." Seimei didn't sound angry--he never sounded _angry,_ not with Ritsuka, even when Ritsuka could tell he'd disappointed him--but that was the big brother voice, the one that told Ritsuka to stop arguing, that Seimei knew best, and it was usually true.

"I could ask him if you won't," Ritsuka said stubbornly, knowing Seimei wouldn't misunderstand him. Knowing Seimei _hadn't_ misunderstood by the way his brother's eyes sharpened at that unthinking "ask." He knew what his brother thought. Sacrifices ordered; Fighters obeyed.

"No." Still not angry--gentle in fact--but Ritsuka could tell his brother had no intention of giving in.

"Why _not?"_

Shaking his head with a quirk of a smile, Seimei reached out to ruffle Ritsuka's ears and ended up stroking them instead. It felt entirely different than Soubi's touch, soothing rather than teasing, but it left the same maddening itch under his fur, the same weird quiver in the pit of his stomach.

"Because," Seimei said at last, and Ritsuka blinked his half-closed eyes wide open, having almost forgotten the question. "He's doing an adequate job already."

"Huh?"

Seimei chuckled and ruffled his hair, dragging the long strands of Ritsuka's bangs through his fingers before he let his hand drop. "It's fine. I don't need to be healed with a spell. Just with rest."

"Hmph," Ritsuka grumbled, glaring at his brother sidelong as he grabbed up a cushion and threw himself down on the couch. "At least you're safe here."

"Yes."

Rolling his eyes at Seimei's complacent tone, Ritsuka wrapped his arms around the cushion and glared at the door. Though it'd mean a return of the uncomfortable tension, he hoped Soubi's afternoon class would let him out early today. Not that Seimei listened to Soubi--not that they _talked,_ exactly--but Soubi had a way of slipping in and making things better that Seimei seemed reluctant to argue with. Maybe his brother just took Soubi's helpfulness for granted.

And maybe that was why Soubi was still waiting, to see if he'd be asked or ordered. Maybe, just like Ritsuka, he only wanted to know where the three of them stood.

***

He'd felt them coming, of course; they all had, but when Soubi rose to answer the knock on the door, it was Ritsuka who stood and took a few hesitant steps after him, Seimei who dropped his eyes unconcernedly back to his book. For a moment Soubi faltered--was he fighting on auto, or...?--but his hand was already on the knob, and he opened the door to a sense of relief.

It lasted only until he realized that he should have expected them days ago.

Two years had stripped some of the baby fat from the Zero boys' faces, and it was already clear that Natsuo was going to tower over Youji by the time they stopped growing. No longer quite so disarmingly cute, he supposed they did still have a certain charm that must make them dangerous to the unwary. Kio had a disturbing tendency to point and yell "Lolicon!" whenever they come around, which Soubi would be inclined to ignore if Kio wouldn't point at _him._ The Zero pair's penchant for dressing as waifs even now didn't help in the slightest.

Stepping outside to join them, Soubi closed the door softly behind him before Ritsuka could follow.

"We know Seimei's here," Youji said after a strained, silent moment, more calmly than Soubi would have expected. "Just tell us what happened. You were there, right?"

"Yes," he admitted, struggling to collect his thoughts. He owed them this much, if nothing else. "Seimei knew Ritsuka wanted to catch him before the others did, so he sent a message. I'm not certain whether he expected it to be intercepted or not. He didn't seem surprised when Nagisa showed up, but...I haven't asked."

"So?"

"She had a gun," Soubi began, pausing a moment to consider their shocked faces. "I believe she intended to kill Seimei before anyone could engage their battle systems. She must have known she didn't have a chance if...."

"Go on," Natsuo grated, scowling fiercely.

"There's not much to tell. Nisei tried to stop her--"

"So it was him," Youji said softly, looking away.

Soubi frowned. He didn't want to do this; Nagisa had been the closest thing to a mother Zero had ever had. They'd never forgive him, but they deserved to know. "Nisei stepped in front of the bullets, but--"

"Soubi." Youji's voice was sharp, his glare sharper still. "That's enough. That's all we need to know. She tried to kill Seimei; Seimei's Fighter did what he had to do. That crazy old woman and Nisei killed each other. Right? So it's over."

It took a long moment before Soubi could collect himself even to nod. He hadn't known she'd died. That hadn't been his intention at all; Ritsuka wouldn't have stood for it.

Natsuo was glaring a hole in the front step, but he nodded as well, gnawing furiously on his lower lip. "It's over," the boy muttered, hunching one shoulder. "She just wanted to get revenge for Ritsu-sensei anyway. She didn't give a damn about how we felt about it."

***

Though he'd been content to idle his days away while he waited to regain his strength, the visit from Zero brought everything back into sharp perspective. There was still a world outside this apartment, and not everyone out there wished him well. It might even be dangerous for him to leave. Not that he needed a Fighter to keep him safe; he had his own defenses, proof even against the power of spells. Ridiculous to think that the animals around him could cause him any harm.

All the same, he waited until Ritsuka was asleep, curled up against his side and breathing heavy and slow, before calling Soubi into the room. Of course the man would be listening, and of course he wouldn't disappoint.

Appearing in the doorway fully-dressed, as if he'd been waiting patiently for the summons, Soubi met his eyes briefly before glancing down at the boy tucked under Seimei's arm. Backlit as he was, most of Soubi's face was lost in shadow, not that it ever gave much away to begin with. It was the Fighter's stance that Seimei filed away for future consideration, as if the man hovered just on the brink of motion. That was new. Soubi had always been almost infuriatingly serene before.

"That was Zero earlier," he said at last, setting his curiosity aside for now. "Will they be a problem?"

"No."

"Hm." Though Soubi had answered without reservation, he found the response somehow dissatisfying. It wasn't like Soubi to speak in absolutes if the answer hinged on trust. "And Ritsu-sensei?"

"Dead," Soubi replied, no regret at all in his tone.

"What about Bloodless?"

"Dead."

"And Seven?"

"Her computers were an unavoidable casualty of the hunt for you two," Soubi said, calmly thumbing his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. "It'll be some time before she's properly connected again."

"Ah. And Nagisa?"

"Dead as well," Soubi admitted reluctantly, as though confessing a failure. "Ritsuka asked me to stop her, so I did...perhaps a little too well. I meant to have her put down the gun, so I took her will, but...."

"You followed your orders," Seimei interrupted him sharply, holding Soubi's eyes as the man fell instantly silent. "That's all that's required of you. Unintended consequences aren't your responsibility."

He could easily imagine what must have happened. With her mind sealed off, her body would likely have slipped into a coma. It was hardly Soubi's fault if someone--her family if she had any, the school if she didn't--had decided to pull the plug.

"Thank you," Soubi startled him by saying, a wry smile twisting the shadows around the Fighter's mouth, and Seimei focused on him again with a startled blink. Had he meant to absolve the man? He thought he'd only been stating the obvious.

"Ritsuka's orders are not to be questioned," he warned, deciding to ignore his own unintended consequences, for now.

"No."

Well. And what did that leave him with? Ritsu dead. Bloodless dead. Nagisa dead through the carelessness of others, perhaps not realizing she could have been retrieved. Seven as good as bound. "So there's really no one left. No one who could stand against us."

"Ritsuka doesn't want to fight." Soubi's words were as careful as his voice, but his eyes as he stepped into the light from the window were another matter.

"I don't want him to fight," Seimei agreed, glancing down at the shape curled up beside him. He couldn't resist petting those dark ears, a little flattened by sleep, and smiled when Ritsuka moaned something irritable and curled up even tighter. "All I ever wanted was to take him away and keep him safe, just the two of us. No Fighters, no Sacrifices, no one between us. He's just like me, you know."

"He's not," Soubi all but snapped, his voice strained, as if he had to force the words out one by one. "He's nothing like you at all."

"No?" Seimei smiled; Soubi had misunderstood him, again. Nisei had understood, but Nisei was just a dog that had learned to walk on its hind legs. Ritsuka was different. "It doesn't matter. Only Ritsuka is important."

But Soubi, standing before him defiant at last, for once in his life had a certain shine, a certain realness to him that made him stand out, solid and steadfast. That was Ritsuka's doing; Seimei was sure of it, as certain as he was that in this particular moment, Ritsuka was the one, driving thought in Soubi's head. Maybe that didn't make Soubi perfect, but it did make him smarter than the rest, something close to _human_ in a way no one else but Ritsuka had ever been to him.

"Yes," Soubi said quietly. "Only Ritsuka matters."

"Well. At least you've proven you can follow orders."

"I didn't need them," Soubi grated out as his eyes jerked sharply away, his hands slipping into his pockets to hide their angry clench. "I didn't need you to tell me to love him."

"No," Seimei said after a long moment, considering the man thoughtfully. "I don't suppose you did."

***

He'd wanted to drag his brother out to the park with them, only Seimei had waved him off, thoroughly engrossed in the laptop he'd had Soubi fetch for him from who-knew-where along with his clothes. _"You two go ahead. Maybe next time."_

And maybe that was his brother's way of saying _stop hovering before you drive me insane,_ but Ritsuka didn't think so. He _thought_ it might be _go spend time with Soubi before we drive_ him _insane,_ but he didn't want to get his hopes up. It was enough to be out here in the sun, sharing a bench and watching the lines of tension smooth away from Soubi's face.

Resting his chin on his drawn-up knees, Ritsuka smiled to himself as Soubi shifted, spine slowly losing its rigidity until he finally relaxed into something like his usual sprawl. Not that a formal, proper Soubi wasn't a sight to behold, but Ritsuka preferred him like this, lazy and content, even if the peaceful look was only a sham. If Soubi practiced it long enough, Ritsuka had every hope that it'd eventually sink in.

Sighing a little himself as he felt a large, square hand settle in his hair, he found himself relaxing as well as Soubi's thumb stroked the edge of his ear. Not that there was anything particularly relaxing about that, but it was Soubi, and that made it sort of okay.

The idiot _purred_ at him when he uncurled himself to lean back against Soubi's chest, chuckled when Ritsuka elbowed him in retaliation. Soubi's arms felt different from Seimei's when they wrapped around him, but both ways were good, safe and familiar. Just maybe different kinds of 'safe.' Maybe.

Sometimes he wondered what it'd be like to drag Soubi into bed with them one night, to sleep with them both on either side of him, cocooned in their warmth. Not that he'd ever say something like that out loud. Soubi would definitely tease him, and...he wasn't sure what his brother would say. _"That's not sanitary,"_ probably. Seimei was like that.

He knew it was stupid to wish there was some way they could stay together, that he could keep them both. Who ever heard of a Fighter with two Sacrifices? But then again, they hadn't ever been normal, any of them, so maybe it could work.

If Seimei had been anyone but Seimei. If Soubi hadn't already had scars enough.

***

Ritsuka's camera was a sleek little thing, palm-sized, state of the art. At least their father was good for that much; he may have escaped into his work, his too-convenient transfer overseas, but at least he made sure Ritsuka had all the toys money could buy.

At least their mother had the excuse of being insane.

Sitting on the bed in Soubi's room, Seimei shook his head, setting aside half-formed plans until he found a way to change Ritsuka's mind. The clink of dishes in the kitchen brought his head up briefly; his brother must be nearly home from school if Soubi was making tea. Casting an unfocused glance at the door, he dropped his eyes to the camera screen, scanning through the pictures on the memory card yet again. Some of them were of Ritsuka's school friends: a skinny boy with bicolor ears, a slender, coltish girl rather too blessed for her age. The newest ones were of him. One or two were of Ritsuka himself, usually taken with him standing alongside someone else, his self-conscious smile too adult, too reserved.

Most of them were of Soubi. Even after an hour of staring at the facts, it was hard to wrap his mind around it.

When he'd ordered Soubi to find Ritsuka if anything should happen to him, he hadn't thought anything of it beyond placing someone he trusted as close to his brother as possible. Ideally Soubi would be in a position to protect Ritsuka, to bring Ritsuka to him if Seimei couldn't fetch him himself. He hadn't expected Soubi to take his orders quite so literally, to accept Ritsuka as his master. He certainly hadn't expected Ritsuka to get attached.

He understood the urge to keep beautiful, clever things close: a well-trained dog, or a butterfly under glass. Soubi was certainly gifted, but he was also stained, marked up by others' dirty hands before he ever came to Seimei. Even now, as comfortable as he'd found himself in the midst of all things Soubi, the thought was vaguely repulsive.

He wondered if Ritsuka saw it like that, though. As far as Ritsuka knew, the only marks on Soubi were Seimei's.

It wasn't right. Ritsuka was supposed to be his, only his. "Give back my Ritsuka," he muttered aloud and laughed, humorlessly, as bile stung the back of his throat. He wouldn't be like that woman. He would _not._

Turning the camera off and setting it aside on the nightstand, he lifted his chin, taking a deep breath as he settled his resolve.

"Soubi."

Instant obedience. He'd tried to take pride in that in the beginning, only it wasn't _his_ training Soubi followed when he gave it, and that had cheapened the man's perfection in his eyes. Nisei had tested him because he liked to be punished; Soubi had done his utmost to please him because he knew nothing else. Neither of them were what he'd wanted, what he needed.

Maybe for Ritsuka it would be different.

Soubi never relaxed while they were alone, and though his face remained calm, the eyes fixed on Seimei were wary to say the least. The years hadn't changed him much; he was still striking, even without his ears, still graceful though he'd grown stronger, harder. It was the eyes that were different, no longer worshipful, watching him with an animal's willingness to struggle, even bite.

"Come here," he ordered when Soubi remained silent, and though the man hesitated a fraction of an instant, in the end he obeyed, step by unwilling step. "Down."

He hadn't risen. There was no way to mistake him, and Soubi dropped to his knees on a shaky breath, eyes wide and wounded. Furious with Seimei, with himself. He didn't flinch when he saw the knife, but Soubi wouldn't. That wasn't the way he was made.

"The bandages," Seimei instructed. "Take them off." Soubi's hands were steady, as steady as Seimei's own. The scars Seimei had left around his neck had changed even less than Soubi, and while part of him was pleased to see it, it was easy enough to set that faint, faded thrill of possession aside. "Up," he said, tapping the flat of the knife against Soubi's chin to make him tilt his face up for what needed to be done. He should have worn gloves, he realized belatedly; now he'd have to touch the man.

The skin under his fingertips was warm as he splayed his hand over Soubi's throat, forefinger and thumb framing the first letter of the Fighter's grafted name. There was nothing special about the knife, no ritual or spell that needed to be chanted; the whole thing was absurdly simple. He'd etched his own name into Soubi's flesh, so only he could remove it.

Soubi's eyes snapped shut at the first cut, brows creasing with the ghost of a wince. There was no finesse to Seimei's carving, defacement his only aim, but as the first letter was rendered unrecognizable, it vanished from Soubi's skin, leaving only the smeared traces of blood behind. Hearing Soubi's breath catch in his throat, he glanced up with an arched brow, smirking a little at the dumbfounded look he was given. Weak as it had grown, the forced connection that had linked them faded abruptly to the faintest whisper, pulled tight enough to snap.

He cut again, erased the next letter, his head ringing with emptiness. There was too much space behind his ribs, more than his lungs could fill by themselves. If he'd thought himself alone after Nisei was killed, he'd been terribly mistaken.

Five letters to go. Something urged his hand to skip the next four, move to the end. The next cut, the next vanishment, thinned their bond to the finest of threads.

The thump of a heavy bag striking the floor at the bedroom door nearly caused his hand to jerk in startlement. He'd forgotten the time, that Ritsuka always hurried home if Soubi wasn't there to meet him.

 _"Seimei!"_ The sheer horror in his brother's voice made him look up, and Ritsuka took advantage of his distraction to lunge from the door and wrap an arm around Soubi's neck, hunched over a little as he pulled the kneeling man back against him as if to protect him. "What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing?"

"Erasing my name," he said mildly. "And don't swear."

Ritsuka stared, mouth working silently until he finally managed, "What?"

"Soubi is a blank Fighter," Seimei explained, surprised at Ritsuka's surprise. Did he truly not know? "Anyone can put their name on him, but only his master can take it away." That seemed to startle even Soubi, and now he understood. Ritsu-sensei had played them all. "You can make him yours," he added deliberately, flipping the knife with the ease of practice to offer it to Ritsuka hilt-first.

Ritsuka stared at him as if he'd just tried to hand his brother a dead snake, though he tightened his grip on Soubi until he had to be choking the man. "What? No! That's--I'm not going to hurt him!"

"Well, you can't leave him like this," Seimei pointed out reasonably enough. "Right now he's no one's."

Though he'd been entirely silent since the moment Seimei called for him, that wrung a strangled sound from Soubi at last, a low moan like something wounded. Instantly loosening his arm, Ritsuka glanced down at his Fighter with a grimace of apology, but what he saw at Soubi's throat made him freeze.

Seimei couldn't quite decipher the look Ritsuka shot him when his brother looked up again, something hesitant and strained, but he heard the utter sincerity in his voice when Ritsuka said, "Don't be an idiot. He's wearing part of _both_ our names."

It was a last moment of weakness that made him look, the word "love" picked out in old, white scars staring back at him. He knew what Ritsuka was offering, that they could share this bond, make Soubi a bridge between them, and maybe...maybe Ritsuka _did_ understand how thoroughly and completely Seimei had intended to keep his brother to himself. Anything to make Ritsuka happy, and Ritsuka could never have been happy with anyone who wasn't like them, but Soubi...Soubi had always been Seimei's eyes, his hands. Soubi could make things...less complicated between them.

But maybe Soubi was human enough, real enough, for Ritsuka after all.

"No," he said, rising from the bed and leaving the knife behind, stooping briefly to plant a kiss between Ritsuka's ears. "He's yours. Don't keep him waiting."

Soubi moved at last as Seimei stepped away from them, not to reach out to him but to close his hand quite carefully around Ritsuka's wrist, holding him there.

Closing the door behind him as he stepped from the room, he felt empty but washed clean at the same time. Everything he owned had always been Ritsuka's, but for the first time in years, he felt like he'd given his brother exactly what he needed.

Stepping away from the door, he resolved to give them a little time before he knocked, started gathering his things to go. Although, oddly enough, now that he'd given up his claim on Soubi, the constant, thrumming tension that had permeated the apartment seemed to have evaporated completely. Snorting to himself, he wondered if he'd misread the source of the strain all along; he could have told Ritsuka he had no designs on the man. And maybe he'd give them a bit longer still, put off his packing until the morning, or the morning after that.

Tea, he decided as he moved into the kitchen with a lighter step than he'd had in weeks. Soubi had been in the middle of making tea, and he hated to see a job left half-done.

***

_this is a rubbish of human rind_  
_with a photograph_  
_clutched in the half_  
_of a hand and the word_  
_love underlined_

\--e.e.cummings, .49, Xaipe  



End file.
